


Unclear

by mockingjayne



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21748018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mockingjayne/pseuds/mockingjayne
Summary: Post season two finale Lyatt. How future versions of themselves effect the present, shaping Lucy and Wyatt as they move into the future...
Relationships: Wyatt Logan & Lucy Preston, Wyatt Logan/Lucy Preston
Kudos: 11





	Unclear

Lucy stumbles up the new Lifeboat, her feet always a little unsteady, but as she follows a version of herself she’s completely unfamiliar with, it has her standing on more uneven ground than usual. Hands shaking as she grips the top, her knuckles turning white, as she pauses, one foot inside, the other almost dangling.

The hesitation is there, not sure what exactly she’s getting herself into, but a woman she knows to be her, someday, maybe, with shorter hair, promises that there’s a way to get Rufus back, she finds herself following them into whatever danger may be lurking to save her friend.

Wyatt’s hand, her Wyatt, she finds herself making the distinction, comes to land on her waist, steadying her, as she climbs in, and she can’t help the tiniest flinch in response to his hands on her. It had been so long since she’d allowed herself to think about his touch. Finding it easier to extricate herself from the awkward triangle equation of disaster. But now…now things were changing. They were different.

Her face scrunches, and her injuries pull at the skin, causing a sting to her face, a hiss coming to her lips loud enough to have bearded Wyatt turning around to look at her.

She can’t quite place the stare, the murky glow of his blue eyes in the dark interior lighting causing confusion, but she swears she sees something of nostalgia lingering there, as he almost smirks at her reaction, and she ducks her head quickly, her long hair moving to cover the red tint to her cheeks. Forcing her eyes not to trace the hard, sculpted line of his arms in that shirt, his jaw covered, but his arms exposed. Seemed like a fair trade off to her.

Shifting nervously on her feet, standing in the middle of this newer, somewhat more high tech, if that was even possible, Lifeboat. The panels glow back at her, a series of flashing lights dance across her bruised and battered face, a reminder that she didn’t belong, a warning of sorts.

She can feel Wyatt’s chest closely behind her, his hand having left her waist once she was safely inside, but still close by, as if ready to move her if he sensed any sort of foul play, untrusting of their future counterparts. Her eyes flicker to the movement of his fingers at the ready, aware that that simple gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by the other Lucy, but she averts her eyes, rubbing circles on her finger, like something’s missing, but not wanting to interrupt, stir history in her favor or ripple into disaster at the slightest interference. As if her mere presence wasn’t enough to do so.

“So this is it?” Wyatt asks behind her, his breath hitting the back of her neck, the sarcasm dripping from his words. “So who’s piloting this thing?” His question coming out as she glances around at the empty seats.

“That would be me,” Lucy, future Lucy, says with a quirk of her head and a grin on her face. The pride she wears mirrored in bearded Wyatt, a dimpled smile making its way to his face, before a look is shot towards him by his pilot partner, and he coughs.

A look of confusion passes Lucy’s face, as she watches their exchange, but she can’t help but feel the same surge of pride soaring through herself with a hint of disbelief at the knowledge that she learns to pilot the Lifeboat. Half the time she has trouble buckling her seatbelt, and they’re going to trust her to get everyone safely to another time?

Glancing back, she sees her Wyatt with a look that resembles something of admiration at the information, and she hides a smile, as she silently wonders if he still buckles her seatbelt in the pilot’s seat before they take off. But she shakes her head at the thought, not wanting to become too dependent on the notion that these people are them…in the future, the memories of the day they’d had coming to scream back at her in the form of a headache. The pulse of her wince echoing in the bruises of her face.

“Some of us would like to know what the plan is,” they hear from outside, the frustrated voice making its way into the machine with them.

It’s not missed by either Lucy when both Wyatt’s prickle and find themselves almost rolling their eyes at the comment, but collectively make their way out of the machine.

—————————————

“I see you still don’t sleep,” she hears, causing her to jump a little, her laptop nearly crashing towards the ground. Her head moving to shoot a comment at Wyatt for scaring her, but when she looks back, she finds it’s not him…or rather…not her Wyatt.

“Sorry, ma’am” he says, and the sincerity in his voice seems to be blanketing not just his remorse for scaring her, but all the times before that one was needed, extending as far as back as the first time they met, it seems.

His hair is no longer smoothed back, but instead hanging wildly over his eyes, the dark color contrasting with the blue, illuminating them more than usual in the eery dark light of the bunker.

She moves to sit up, her robe falling a little, as does her guard around the man who’d just referred to her as a pleasantry she hadn’t heard in quite some time. The nostalgia washing over her, bringing a smile to her split lip.

What she looks at as a strange future, he looks back like an old memory.

“I haven’t seen you with long hair in forever,” he says with a tilt of his head, a ducked smile, as he sits in the chair next to her, arms coming to rest on his knees, leaning towards her, his thumb making circles against his finger in a habit she can’t quite place, but one she’d seen short haired Lucy do earlier.

She shifts in her seat, her hand unconsciously moving to smooth down the top of her hair, until she reaches the point of the bun resting at the end. She finds it a funny statement, given that her hair was short when she met her Wyatt. Only recently had it gotten longer, but it seems she’ll eventually work herself up to cut it again, and she can’t help but wonder if it wasn’t a control move. When the rest of the world spirals out of her control, did she cut it to feel like she had a say in something or was it pure convenience?

She’s shaken from her thoughts as bearded Wyatt laughs.

“I just saw that exact worried face five minutes ago before I walked out here,” he teases, and she narrows her eyes at him.

“Lucy was…,” she starts, hesitating after referring to herself, someone else, by name. “…worried? About what? She could kick anyone’s ass in that outfit alone,” she jokes, but the shake to her voice suggests she’s afraid of the answer he might give.

Leaning further into her, almost straining with a conspiring grin.

“Just between you and me…y’all haven’t changed that much,” he says with a soft smile. “Not where it matters, anyway,” and she finds herself smiling back. The comfort she feels in knowing that not everything will be lost in the future. A version of herself that’s unrecognizable, but still her, at the core. “You know her, or you, I guess, going on about the past and not wanting to change anything and the consequences of doing so,” he finishes with almost a shiver of the threat of something changing. Seemingly more invested than she’s ever seen him.

She doesn’t miss how normal it is to be in his presence. There’s an ease to the way he speaks to her, one that only comes with knowing someone for a long time.

“Can I ask you something?” She tries, staring down at her hands, her brown eyes surfacing with tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.

“Uhh, shoot,” he says, but there’s a hesitancy to his voice, as he glances back, as if checking to make sure no one’s listening, like a child making sure they’re not going to get in trouble before doing the thing they were told not to do.

“In the future…” she starts with a heavy sigh, and she sees Wyatt bring his hand to rub at his beard, a tick she’s not quite sure how long he’s had, but one that she could eventually get used to. “In the future, are we okay?”

Her brown eyes plead with him for an honest answer. She’s found herself at a crossroads with her Wyatt, although the writing seems to be on the wall given how frequently she keeps referring to him as her own. Just earlier today she sat on a wall, the same wall they’d declared themselves happy, and he’d told her he loved her.

She knew that if she were being honest, the words were buried in her heart, beating along with the rhythm of who she was, intertwined and inextricably connected. But her tongue had refused to respond, her pain coming from more than just the visible injuries.

Having stared into his blue eyes, clouded with tears, it was unclear of what their future would be, if there even was one outside of that moment. But as she sits on the couch, staring into her future, literally, she can’t help but wonder if the woman with the short hair, but whose worry never ceases, didn’t just want to preserve the past, but her past. And what, specifically, was she worried about keeping in tact, to ensure that it remains the same for her?

This new Wyatt sits there, once again his thumb moving across his finger as he thinks of his answer, of them. A slow smile spreading across his face, the question seemingly easier to answer than what he had expected.

“Yeah, _Lu_ ,” he stops, as if catching himself from saying too much. “We’re okay,” he assures her, his eyes refusing to leave her own, as her brow furrows at a nickname she’s never heard him use, locking her into an assurance that she can’t help but hope remains true.

His hand reaches out, grabbing her own with a gentle squeeze, sealing his silent promise. A calm washing over her, if only for a second, at the safety of knowing that.

“What’s going on?” She hears her Wyatt ask, walking quickly into the room worry carried on his face, in his stance, tense as his eyes trace the interaction between the two of them.

“You’ll get there,” the bearded one says with a pat to her Wyatt’s back as he walks away, throwing a wayward glance at her as he goes, the contact bristling the man in front of her, as he scans her face to make sure she’s okay.

Lucy stands, closing her laptop, raising an eyebrow at the Wyatt standing next to her.

“We should get some sleep,” she suggests, trying to walk past him, but he hesitantly rests his hand on her arm, stopping her.

“You okay?” He asks, his concerned eyes refusing to meet her own, as if feeling unworthy of even asking her that question, knowing full well that he’s the cause of a lot of her pain.

“No,” she answers honestly, moving her head so he’s forced to meet her eyes. The full force of her brown meeting his blue, casting a hazel gaze that between the two of them that won’t be realized until much later. “But I will be,” she says, trusting future Wyatt’s words to have been true. Her free hand coming to grip his for a second in the same way her’s had just been grasped by a different man, but one in the same.

He lets his hand drop, his gentle grasp gone, but the warmth lingering on her skin, and he nods.

As she turns, she reaches for her necklace, the one no longer with her. It had been something of a talisman to her, rooting her in the past, morphing into a habit of grasping onto the jewelry, soothing her of what was and what will be. Her hand landing somewhere on her stomach, coming up empty, palm spreading across where it should be.

Her eyes squinting in realization, her thumb drawing circles on her shirt, the same way she’d seen a future Wyatt and Lucy do on their fingers, as if missing something they’d taken off.

 _“No,”_ she whispers to herself, shaking her head, looking down the hall in the direction he’d disappeared to.

“Hey, wait, Lu,” her Wyatt says in haste, seeing her standing in the hallway, frozen. “What?” He asks, seeing her eyes grow wide.

“Did you…were you listening to us…?” Her words questioning but trailing off as if she was trying to piece together something so obvious.

“No, why? Did he say something?” His jealous anger almost comical given that it was a version of himself that was the cause.

“Hmm,” she hums. “Lu?” She quirks an eyebrow at him.

She swears she can see the red almost tint his cheeks. “It seemed better than Lulu,” he shrugs, and she cringes at the childish nickname.

“You do know Lucy is my nickname, right?” She teases, her brown eyes twinkling with mischief as she puts him on the spot.

“Yeah, but everyone calls you that,” he admits with a shrug.

She peers up at him.

“No…it’s…fine. I…like it,” she admits with a smirk. “It’s…unique.”

“Alright,” he says, as they walk quietly together down the hall together.

“Hey Wyatt,” she nearly whispers, her mouth pursing before continuing. “Do you think…in the future…that they’re…”

“Married?” He finishes, and she balks.

“I was going to say ‘together,’” she nervously laughs.

“I don’t know, I’m having a hard time thinking anyone would marry me with that beard,” he jokes with a cringe on his face, and she nudges him with her shoulder.

“Really? I like it,” she says without thinking, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Oh yeah? He says, his voice getting louder. “Lucy Preston, a fan of beards, got it. So should I start growing one tomorrow?” He rubs his bare face in the same way future Wyatt had rubbed his beard, their teasing reminiscent of another time, one before everything had gotten so complicated.

She stops, facing him, and he falls in time with her, planted in his spot next to her.

“I’m serious,” she says, not quite a pout on her lips, but enough of a sadness to her voice, that he can sense what she’s getting at.

“Lucy, _Lu_ , as long as you’ll allow me, I’ll be right here, cheering you on, protecting you, whatever you want. I know my word doesn’t mean much now, but…” he gets out, the pain seeping out of him, wanting to make it better, move towards healing, preparing the damage.

“It will,” she assures him, quirking her bruised face with a tilt of her head, peering at him through dark lashes. And she can’t help but wonder if this was how it was always supposed to be. That a bearded version of himself was always meant to lay the groundwork for a time where they were together, side by side, not just fighting for a better future, but a future where they were together. Happy. Married. Okay.

He nods, and they continue walking, hands slightly brushing against each other with every step, the heat trapped between them, threatening to burn them both if they kept it up. Their future becoming more and more clear, decisions allowing them to make the choices that lead them closer to their fate.


End file.
